


Give Me A Break!

by daddybarnes1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers x Supernatural, BAMF Stiles, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Teen Wolf x Avengers, Teen Wolf x Avengers x Supernatural, teen wolf x supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddybarnes1/pseuds/daddybarnes1
Summary: After two near death experiences with Allison and Aidan (near death meaning they both lived, barely), Stiles decides he needs some time away from Beacon Hills.He heads to New York to stay at his Uncle Rob's house for a few weeks and runs into an old friend/enemy.When he finds out his Uncle Rob's real job is working with some of the most famous superheroes in the world, things take a turn for the dangerously awesome.In Stiles' opinion anyway.
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittmore, Stiles Stilinski & The Avengers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 215





	1. Taking Some Time

Stiles walked into his hallway, suitcase trailing behind him as he mentally went over his checklist. He was sure he had packed everything but knowing him, there was something her had forgotten. He hoped not, it wasn't like he could drop by and pick it up if he had. 

His currently overbearing father comes up behind him, gently clasping his shoulders.

"Are you sure you want to go to New York, Stiles?" He asks, fixing Stiles jumper. "We can always cancel the flight and you can go another time. Maybe it's too soon to be making any rash decision." 

"No, dad. I have to go now. With all of the supernatural crap going on, I need some time for myself. It'll be fine, this is a good thing." Stiles tell him.

For once, he's not lying to him. He actually does believe that this will be good for him.

His dad smiles at him, leaning forwards to place a soft kiss on his forehead. He was proud of his son, more so than he could even put into words.

"Okay, son, whatever you need. Text me when you get on and off the plane, when you get to Uncle Rob's and every few days to make sure you're alright." He says, he concern for him clear in his eyes.

"I will dad, don't worry." Stiles replies, wrapping his arms around his dad's waist for a hug.

Noah holds him tightly against his chest, savouring it as if it's the last time he's ever going to see his troublesome son. Stiles rolls his eyes. He's moving, not _dying_.

Stiles pulls away, still keeping his father close, and can see the unshed tears in his old man's eyes.

"Say hello to Rob for me." Noah smiles.

"Sure thing." Stiles mutters, holding back his own tears.

They walked to the front door together, wandering out of the house in silence to wait for the taxi. To both of their surprise, they bump into Scott on their way. He had his arm raised, about to knock on their door.

"Hey, Stiles. Emergency pack meeting at Derek's, we've got a p- wait, why do you have a suitcase?" Scott asks, cutting himself off to allow surprise to take over his voice.

"Hey Scotty. I'm leaving town for a bit. All this supernatural stuff is getting to my head and I need some time off." Stiles tells him, playing with the ends of his sleeves as his nerves begin to rise.

Scott was still a bit on edge after nearly losing Allison, so he seemed to always on high alert. Every bunny rabbit that so much as moves on their territory is a new potential threat. Throughout all of that, thought, Scott insists that he and Allison are not getting together.

Stiles calls bullshit. He gives them a week.

"But Stiles-" Scott starts, but Stiles cuts him off.

"Look, I don't have time to explain it to you right now- and there's my taxi so I gotta go. I'll text you, okay? Bye dad, bye Scott." Stiles says quickly, giving his dad one last hug and waving over his shoulder while jumping into the newly arrived taxi.

He looks out of the rear window as the car peels away from the sidewalk, leaving the place he grew up behind him. It's time for a new chapter in his life, and he doesn't think Beacon Hills has a place in it. 


	2. New York

Ah, New York. A bustling city filled with the lingering scent of stale cigarettes and steaming garbage, widely known as the city that never sleeps.

Well Stiles, for one, hope it sleeps tonight cause he is fucking _exhausted_.

His plane landed around half an hour ago and he was now walking from the airport to Rob's house.

Rob had moved since the last time Stiles had sen him (which was to be expected after 6 years) so he was checking Google Maps on his phone every 30 seconds. He needed to make sure he was going in the right direction, especially in a big city like this - he could barely handle the street he _grew up_ on.

He didn't want to waste his money on a taxi in case he needed it in an emergency, like if he ran out of Cap'N Crunch or something, so he thought walking was a better idea. Plus, he could use the exercise and Rob's house isn't that far from the airport. Really, it's a win-win scenario.

He probably made the walk a lot harder on himself cause he has two books in his backpack, as well as another three in his suitcase - all of which are at least 1000 pages long. Educational, of course. Deaton gave them to him and said he should read over them whenever he got the chance, so he decided to bring them with him for his indefinite stay.

Clearly he's regretting that decision now, because his shoulders are killing him.

Finally, he could see Rob's street in his line of vision. He ups his pace a bit, itching to collapse onto his bed and sleep for the next two days.

He skips quickly up the porch steps and tap on the door a few times. As he waits for his uncle to answer, he briefly wonders what it would be like to see Rob again after all these years.

He was always so nice to him, nicer than most. He didn't have that many friends when he was younger. Actually for the first six years of his life, he didn't have any. He used to visit Rob every month with his parents, and Rob became his best friend.

Rob listened to his ADHD induced rambles, played games with him, and made sure he was having all the fun a kid should have. After Stiles met Scott, Rob was still one of his best friends but Scott became his brother. Stiles kind of left him behind after his mom died, mostly because his dad didn't have the strength to visit without her.

But now he's going to be living here with him, and he hopes that Rob still considers him one of his best friends.

Instead of Rob, a redhead Stiles has never met before opens the door very slightly and peeks her head out.

_Holy shit, does he have the wrong address?_

"Can I help you?" She asks, eyeing him up and down.

"Hi, I'm looking for my Uncle. Robert? Is this his house?" Stiles replies, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

"You must be Stiles. Come on in." Red says, opening the door for him.

He drags his suitcase into the hall, standing it up so that he can have a look around. Everything is so different from the old house and it slightly puts him off. He was so used to Rob's being his secondary home that seeing everything different unsettles him.

"Your uncle is away on business, an emergency came up and he was called into work. He asked me to stay here to let you in and help you get settled etcetera." Red tells him, politely smiling.

"Well, thank you." Stiles says, smiling back.

Red grabs his suitcase - lifting it like it weighs nothing - and begins walking towards the stairs, pointing as she does.

"Your room is at the top of the stairs, first door on your right. Rob says to help yourself to food if you want it and that he won't be back until very late, probably after you're asleep." She adds, walking up with him and leading him towards his room.

"Oh, you didn't have to bring this up." Stiles tells her, redness colouring his cheeks as he follows her into his room.

She places the suitcase down and turns to smile at the teenager.

"I've heard so much about you from Robert. The way he talks about you, you'd think you were royalty. I'm perfectly happy to help out anyway I can." She says.

She hold out her hand towards him and continues politely smiling.

"I'm Natasha, by the way." She says.

"Nice to meet you, Natasha." Stiles replies, shaking her hand and returning the smile.

She glances around the room at all my old posters and decorations, giving him a once over like she assessing him. He begin to internally panic a little, he doesn't usually do well on tests or assessments.

"I'll let you get settled. I'll be in the living room if you need anything." She flashes him another gentle smile and then walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

_Well, at least she closed the god-damn door *cue teenage angst-filled sniggering*_

***

After unpacking all his things into his new room, Stiles grabs one of Deaton's books titled ' _Magic: Unearthed_ ' and makes his way downstairs to find Natasha sitting in the living room like she said she would be.

He had half expected her to just leave, that he would come downstairs to an empty house. That's usually how it goes at home with his Dad always busy. It's a little bit dark, but unfortunately just a part of his reality. Probably something that should be left in the DO NOT OPEN box in his mind for now, until he can bring it up with a therapist or something.

Natasha turns round as he walks in and pats the seat next to her on the couch, inviting him over.

"Have a seat, I don't bite ... mostly." She smirks, with an almost sinister undertone.

He chuckles to myself before placing his book down on the coffee table and sitting next to her.

"Big book. What's it about?" She asks, eyeing the aged leather cover with not-so-subtly hidden interest.

A lump rises in his throat and he has to force his eyes to not widen in panic. Crap, he's going to have to lie - something he very much sucks at.

"My research project for English is about supernatural creatures and the like. We have all summer to finish it but if I get it done now then I don't have to worry about it." He says, shrugging casually.

"Sounds interesting, I may have to borrow the book." She says, raising her eyebrows.

"Sure thing." He smiles.

He was going to ask her what she does while working with my uncle but was cut off by the rumbling of his underfed stomach. _Rude much?_

"Hungry, are we?" Natasha jokes.

He can feel a faint blush beginning to cover his face as he lightly nods his head.

"Well, like I said, Rob talks about you a _lot._ So how about I order in a couple large boxes of curly fries?" Natasha offers, raising her eyebrows and pulling out her phone.

Stiles eyes light up at the idea, and he can tell that Natasha sees it because she laughs and starts dialling the number. Oh dear lord, this woman may just be his new best friend! She's buying him curly fries, the worlds best food! He's never leaving this house ever again, this can't get any better.

"There." Natasha says while hanging up the phone. "Your curly fries are on their way, free of charge cause I know the owner."

Never mind, it got better.

"You're amazing." He laughs, staring at her while trying to decipher if this was a dream.

He tilts his head to the side curiously as he hears the thump of footfall on the doorstep. From previous experience with doorstep creepers, he gets up to go investigate the noise but Natasha places a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me go first, kid. If anything happens to you on my watch, Rob will get me fired." Natasha says, no trace of joking on her face.

He steps to the side and allows her to go first, following close behind.

She opens the door slightly, just like she did to him when he got here, and looks out.

"Who are you?" She asks the mystery person, monotonously.

"Umm, is Stiles here?" A familiarly gruff voice asks.

He almost jump as memories flash through his mind like an army of flies, the deep, rumbling voice bringing back so much.

"Jackson?" He mutters to myself, reaching forward to open the door fully.

Sure enough, there on the doorstep was Jackson Whittmore in all his blond glory. He's wearing his usual get-up of jeans and a long sleeved tshirt, with a hoodie tied around his waist and a backpack on.

"Hey, Stiles." He says, nervously.

"Umm, what are you doing here?" Stiles asks, stepping out onto the porch.

He looks downwards and plays with the ends of his sleeves, the same thing that Stiles does when he gets anxious. Stiles didn't think that was a good sign.

"Well, I was on my way to Beacon Hills and my plane from London got in at New York. I had a long layover so I was gonna get some sleep. I text Scott to tell him where I was and he told me you were here too. I got your dad to give me the address and here I am." He says, finishing by lifting his arms up and gesturing around himself.

Stiles stares at him in shock for a second. He can tell he's lying (something he'd learned to do to all the wolves) which can only mean that it was something wolfy he couldn't say in front of Natasha - who was hovering in the doorway.

"Oh. Well uh- come in." Stiles says, gesturing inside.

Jackson follows Stiles inside and looks around, still fiddling with his sleeves. He throws a soft smile Stiles' way, nodding his head in thanks.

Natasha comes up beside Stiles and discreetly points at the house guest, frowning while silently asking who he is.

"Jackson this is Natasha, she works with my Uncle. Natasha this is Jackson, a friend from Beacon Hills." Stiles says, introducing the two of them.

Jackson politely held out his hand for Natasha smiling lightly at her.

"Nice to meet you." He says, still looking fairly nervous.

"You too." She replies, an inquisitive look on her face.

She glances him up and down, looking slightly disheartened. Can she not figure him out? She had Stiles in down in seconds.

"Why don't you come up to my room and we can catch up, Jax?" Stiles asks, pointing to the stairs.

He nods and goes to walk up. Stiles quickly slips into the living room, grabbing his book before heading back to the stairs. They go up and into Stiles room, Jackson flopping down onto the bed with his head in his hands.

"Okay, spill. Why are you really here?" Stiles asks, hands in my hips.

"I honestly don't know. I was serious about the layover in New York but I caught your scent at the airport and felt, I don't know, like I had to follow it." Jackson says, frowning to himself. He inhales deeply before continuing.

"So I did, and it wasn't until I got here that I realised what I was doing." Jackson mutters, fumbling over his words.

"Weirdly, that makes more sense than you contacting my dad to find me." Stiles says, laughing slightly.

Jackson nods his head, silently agreeing with me.

"I'm sorry for just showing up like this." He says, shaking his head. "I probably should have called or something."

"I doubt you even have my number but it's fine, Jackson. Unexpected, but fine. How long are you staying?" Stiles ask, sitting next to him on the bed.

"I don't know. I'm not sure why I was even going back to Beacon Hills, there's nothing there for me anymore. I was only going cause Scott said there was a problem." Jackson mumbles.

Stiles heart aches for him, which in itself is rather strange. After Jackson left, Lydia did all she could to move on and finally did with Aidan. His adoptive parents are in London and even Danny has begun socialising with a new group of people, including the pack.

He well and truly does have nothing there.

No, Stiles won't allow that. Jackson Whittmore will always be a popular, arrogant dick. The world isn't right if he's not. Besides, he has Stiles.

"Well... stay here then. I mean I know we've had our differences in the past but we're okay now, right? Stay, Jackson." Stiles tells him, placing his hand on Jackson's.

"I'd like that, Stiles." Jackson replies, smiling.

They both hear the doorbell ring from downstairs, causing Stiles' head to snap up.

"Curly fries! You coming Jax?" He says excitedly, before jumping off the bed and running downstairs.

Stiles hears him mutters something along the lines of 'typical' before following him downstairs at a normal walking pace.

Natasha meets the hyperactive boy at the bottom of the stairs, smirking as he tries to beat her to the door.

"Not so fast, pretty boy." She says, holding out her arm to stop him.

"I have to have a few words with my friend from the shop. Get plates and I'll bring the fries to the living room, okay?" She continues, not waiting for an answer before opening the door and slipping out.

Stiles groans in slight annoyance but none the less, goes and gets plates like Natasha said.

Oh, curly fries. His one true love.

***

Three plates of curly fries and a sore stomach later, Stiles is back in his bedroom, curled up in the fetal position on his bed while attempting to not vomit.

"Regret is a wonderful emotion, isn't it Stilinski?" Jackson says, a smirk on his face as he watches him writhe in pain from his spot on the floor.

"I regret nothing." Stiles hisses into his pillow.

Jackson chuckles and goes back to picking at the loose string hanging from his sleeve.

"So can I ask, what are you doing here anyway? I mean, why leave Beacon Hills?" Jackson asks, looking up at Stiles with his eyebrows furrowed.

Stiles feels his body tense and suddenly the sore stomach doesn't feel so bad anymore. Nothing can compare to the reason he's there. He sits up, crossing his legs in front of him before sighing deeply.

"It's a long story, a very long story." He replies, allowing his eyes to fill with a few tears.

Jackson moves from the floor to sit next to him on the bed, his hand placed gently on my knee in a show of support.

"You can tell me, it's alright." He encourages slowly.

A single tear falls down Stiles' face as he begins to tell him the story.

"I guess it started with the Nemeton..."


	3. The Man, The Myth, The Legend

You never quite get used to the feeling of being woken up by a werewolf. You also never get rid of the bruises on your shoulders, but that's besides the point.

Jackson had taken it upon himself to be Stiles' alarm clock for the day and honestly, he might just start paying the blonde to wake him up every day because he did a fairly brilliant job. He had never been so alert in his entire life, which is an achievement.

"Get up, Stilinski! Now, before I tear your throat out!" He yelled, straight into the sleeping boy's ear.

Stiles harshly shoved him away and somehow managed to roll off his bed, thumping loudly onto the floor and hitting his head off the bedpost.

He'd always been what he liked to call 'challenged' when it came to stability, though his dad just called him a klutz.

He didn't mean to, but he somehow always manage to land on my ass. It didn't even matter what he was doing, he always ends up on the floor. It's sort of like his own superpower.

"Well, I'm definitely awake now." Stiles groaned, in his scratchy morning voice.

He sat himself upright and threw off his duvet, which he had somehow managed to pull down with him during his fall.

"Get dressed, we're going out for breakfast then shopping." Jackson says, strolling out of the room with his usual swagger. Still a jackass, good to know.

"Well then, thats my day sorted." Stiles mutters, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

After a few hours of talking with Jackson last night, Stiles felt like he knew him better than he ever did back in Beacon Hills.

Jackson told him about his family, what it was like to live with the Whittmore's and even about his birth parents death.

He got rather emotional at that and Stiles had to comfort him as he cried for a few minutes, something he immediately swore to deny for the rest of eternity (not that Stiles blames him).

Stiles told him about the Nogitsune and he was very sympathetic, having known himself what it felt like to be controlled. Jackson assured him that it wasn't his fault, and promised to help with the PTSD and nightmares.

Who knew Jackson 'Jackass' Whittmore could actually be compassionate?

Sighing, Stiles pulled himself up off the floor and started getting ready. He chose a pale blue flannel shirt and acid washed skinny jeans, throwing on his usual black vans and beanie to finish the look.

He also decided to wear his glasses today. He hasn't worn them in a while but decided why not, he was getting really sick of contact lenses. Those fuckers burn after a while.

After he finished getting ready, he bounded downstairs to meet Jax. Turning into the living room, he found him sitting on the sofa beside none other than his elusive Uncle Rob sitting in the chair beside him.

With a huge grin plastered onto his face, Stiles crossed the room towards him with determination in my eyes.

"Uncle Rob!" He says, opening his arms for the older man.

"Stiles, there you are!" He smiles back, standing up to embrace his nephew in his 'death-grip hug', something Stiles didn't realise he had missed until now.

"It's been too long, my boy." Rob says, releasing the teen and sitting him down on the couch next to Jackson.

"I know, way too long." Stiles replies, nodding his head.

He looks at Stiles with a small smile etched onto his face, one that the boy had only seen him wear a couple of times, and even then, just for a few moments in the time he'd know him.

Uncle Rob lives alone and only really had company when Stiles, his mom and his dad would visit. He'd always give them that same smile on their arrival, like he'd been waiting for them a lot longer than they knew he actually had.

After Claudia died, Stiles and his dad didn't come up as often, so they kind of lost contact with Rob. It wasn't until late last year that Noah reconnected with him.

Though Stiles recognised the smile, it was different. It seemed more hesitant and closed off, almost as if he was hiding something.

Or maybe Stiles was just being paranoid. He was the one keeping secrets, after all.

"I have to ask Stiles, who's your friend?" Rob asks, pointing at Jackson.

"Oh, right. Umm, this is Jackson. He's a friend from Beacon Hills but there was ... issues ... there, so I offered him a place to stay. I hope you don't mind." Stiles says quickly, clasping his hands together in his lap.

"Of course not. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Welcome to my humble abode, Jackson." Rob smiles.

Jackson lets out a huge sigh, relaxing down into the couch in what seemed like relief. Stiles figured he must have been worried that Rob wasn't going to let him stay.

Stiles places his hand lightly on his leg, trying to show his support, but a snap of electricity rushes through his fingertips.

He jerks my hand back, widening his eyes at Jackson who gives him the same look back. Did he feel that too?

Stiles shakes off the strange feeling and stands up, grabbing Jax by the elbow and pulling him up too.

"Jax and I were gonna go for breakfast and then do some shopping. You wanna come?" Stiles offers, gesturing between himself and Jackson.

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to impose. I have a few work things to catch up on so don't worry about me." He replies, giving the two boys a final smile before heading through to his study.

That's another good thing about Rob, he doesn't feel the need to be all up in your business. He lets you do your own thing, only asking for the occasional update.

"Well Jax, we should head out." Stiles says, turning to his werewolf ... friend? Yeah, friend.

"Yep, lets go." Jackson grins, rushing to the door like an overgrown puppy.

This is gonna be a looooooong day.

***

Two stack of pancakes, ten shops and a slap on the forehead later, Jackson was finally happy with the clothes Stiles had bought and gave him the official Whittmore seal of approval. *cue groan*

Honestly, that boy doesn't budge when he sets his mind to something. He insisted on choosing every item of clothing for Stiles while not allowing him to keep anything from his old wardrobe.

He also somehow managed to take all the bags from Stiles and carry them himself, insisting that he was a werewolf and didn't need any help.

Goddamn stuck up steroid fuelled brats.

Around 4pm, Stiles told the blonde that he wanted to go visit one more shop, a magical shop. Deaton had slipped the address into one of the books he gave Stiles, which he had then found on the plane here. That sneaky man, always up to something.

Of course, being the ever-curious thrill-seeking body-hunting lunatic that he was, Stiles thought he should go and check the place out, maybe even introduce himself to the owner.

_I mean, how many ways could this go wrong? Oh that's right, hundreds. **Literally** , hundreds._

When they arrived outside of the shop, they could immediately tell which one it was. Just like in those old cheesy movies, it was disguised as an antique shop.

Figures, Stiles scoffed to himself, his entire life was a cliche.

Stiles pushed open the door, vaguely hearing a bell chime above his head, and wandered in with Jackson right on his heels.

He felt the same tingling from earlier return, raising the hairs on his neck. It seemed vaguely familiar, like a forgotten memory, but he just couldn't place it.

He glanced around at all the stuff littering the shelves. China sets, clocks, books, musical instruments and a few antique mirrors. Man, if he didn't know about the supernatural stuff, this would be a pretty good store for him.

"Can I help you?" A voice said from the corner of the room.

The boys looked over and saw a tall man with shaggy brown hair, a red plaid shirt and a black nose piercing coming out of a back cupboard.

He had a slightly crooked nose, as if it had been broken a few times before, and had a large scar running down his left cheek from his eye to the corner of his mouth.

"Umm, I hope so. A friend of mine gave me this address. Do you know a Dr Deaton?" Stiles asks, his voice wavering slightly under the tall mans intense gaze.

His hazel eyes widen slightly and he gestures for them to come towards him. Jackson and Stiles inch forward, alert and ready to bolt at a moments notice. Old habits.

"Maybe we should take this conversation to the back room, eh?" He says lowly, flashing his alpha red eyes.

Stiles hears Jackson gasp and clutch onto his upper arm, his claws scratching him slightly. Stiles looks back at him and sees his own eyes flash electric blue for a few seconds before returning to normal.

"Maybe we should." Stiles replies, straightening up and puffing out his chest a little.

They follow the nameless man back into a store cupboard, weaving through shelf after shelf until they reach a locked door.

The man types in a code and with a click the door swings open. Stiles edges into the room, jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.

There are bookshelves filled with what look like bestiary's, jars of herbs and what he recognises as mountain ash. There's an operating table at the side of the room with equipment beside it.

There's a long, red couch and two leather arm chairs beside it, surrounding a coffee table which has a bowl of candy on top of it.

"Wow." Stiles says, having no other words to describe the room around him. It was a veritable werewolf haven.

The man laughs and nods his head, a grin etched onto his face.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." He smiles, appraising his own collections.

He hand trails across a particular blade that looks like its made of bones, a nostalgic look on his face.

"How did you get all this stuff?" Stiles asks, walking over to the bookshelf and stroking the spines of the books.

"I'm related to a family of hunters. We had all this stuff collected in a... storage locker, of sorts... and I decided to put it to good use.

"When I was turned, my brother swore to protect me, to help me out as much as he could. We tracked down my alpha and I killed him, earning my freedom. Have me this scar for my troubles.

"My brother still hunts supernaturals, but he brings them to me and I tell him who he has to let go." The man says, smiling at a tattoo on his arm that I assume was a name.

"Whats your name?" Stiles asks him, sitting himself and Jackson, who still looks terrified, down on the red couch.

"Sam Winchester." He replies.

Stiles raises his hand and slaps it to his forehead. Of course it was Sam, Deaton told the pack about him and his brother. They are the most feared yet respected hunters in existence. If the Winchesters rolled up at your door, you were in real trouble.

"Of course you are, sweet Jesus. You're an absolute legend." Stiles says, his geek side pushing though.

This man, to him, is a genius. A born and raised hunter who spent most of his life travelling America to hunt down anything from ghosts to shape shifters and anything in between.

"If you know about me then you know all the terrible things I did, like starting the apocalypse." Sam sighs, eyes swimming with regret.

"Yeah but you also stopped it." Stiles points out, grinning while Sam shakes his head at him, obviously amused by his antics.

"Enough about me, lets talk about why you're hear. Deaton had me prepare a few things for your arrival." He says, waving me over to one of the storage lockers.

He puts on a pair of thick gloves and pulls out a metal baseball bat from within the container, along with a couple of books and an odd looking flower.

"Deaton told me about you inability to protect yourself with anything other than a baseball bat," Sam starts, amusement in his eyes. "So I modified this one. The handle is mountain ash, meaning only you can pick it up and when it hits a supernatural, it hurts then as if they were human."

Stiles gapes at the metal bat, barely holding myself back from snatching it away from Sam.

"So that's why you're wearing gloves right?" He asks, nodding towards Sam's hands.

"I'd have holes in both my hands by now if I weren't wearing them." Sam says. He hands the bat over, picking up the books and flowers.

"I'm sure you're sick of Deaton's vague answers and cryptic riddles so I'm gonna just tell you straight out." He continues.

Stiles' interest peaks at this, he'd been trying to get info out of Deaton for the better part of two years and was still empty handed - except from a few vague half answers and possibly a few threats.

"Stiles, you're a mage." Sam tells him.

All the breath Stiles had been holding rushes out in one big puff, his heart almost stopping. A mage? He's a freaking _mage_?! That's why Deaton was giving him all those books?!

"I.. what?" Stiles gapes, trying to wrap his head around this new information.

"I could feel it the minute you walked in that door, your power and aura are something even I've never felt before." Sam continues slowly.

"These book are here to help you gain control, learn how to manipulate your magic as well as protect your pack." He finishes, looking between the young boy and Jackson, who is still perched on the red sofa in shock.

"Wow, I'm not sure what to say." Stiles whispers. "What about the flower? What's that do?"

"That's is important to you specifically. With the info in these books, you can use the flower to calm down out of control supernaturals, its really more of a channel for your magic. Once you get the hang of it, you wont need the flower. I have mage friend and she felt Jackson enter the city limits. She knew he was newly turned and I thought precautions were necessary." Sam finished, holding the flower towards him.

Stiles took it from him, along with the books and nodded his head. This is a lot to take in and he's not even sure where to begin.

"Thank you for the info and all this stuff. We should probably be going, my uncle will worry." Stiles tells him, grabbing the bat and signalling to Jackson.

"Don't be a stranger Stiles, we're on the same side here." He says, leading them towards the front on the store.

"Goodbye Sam." Stiles waves, heading out of the door with Jackson back on his heels.

They walk halfway along the street in silence before stopping and turning to face each other.

"Stiles..." Jackson starts before pausing, thinking how to phrase his words. " _What the fuck just happened_?!"


	4. Shut Your Mouth, Whitt-Whore

The two teens eventually made it back to the house, their arms full of all the books and clothes they had accumulated, and their heads still spinning from the information they were bombarded with - courtesy of Sam.

Not that this was his fault or anything, it's just a lot for Stiles' ADHD brain to cope with in one go.

While he was mulling things over in his head, Jackson seemed more intent on speaking - or rather screaming - his thoughts. As soon as they were in Stiles' room, he practically threw the shopping onto my double bed and turned to face the younger boy.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?" He yells, spitting out every word.

Stiles shrugged my shoulders, eyes focused firmly on the dark blue carpet. What was that? _The_ Sam Winchester knows who he is, and that he's apparently extremely powerful - which doesn't make since cause he's, well, Stiles: The Puny Human as Derek so kindly puts it.

And sliding on into that topic, how is it exactly that he's powerful? He doesn't really understand that part because he thought he was human. Deaton had called him a spark before, but that's nothing special. Sparks are everyday humans with a slight ability to manipulate the supernatural, and now he's some super powerful Mage?

"I don't know Jackson, I really don't." Stiles tells him honestly, looking up to meet his eyes.

He can see that Jackson is trying to work out a way to approach the situation, stopping and starting his sentences a few times before finding something suitable.

"So you're some sort of wizard now?" He asks, carefully seating himself on the edge of my bed, his posture stiff and calculated.

_Okay, almost suitable. What did you expect? It's Jackson._

"Umm... actually its Mage, but yeah, close enough." Stiles says, chuckling a little bit to lighten the mood.

"I honestly don't care, Stiles. I just want to know what's happening. Everything's changing so fast lately." Jackson whines, his eyes slightly glossy.

Stiles' heart breaks for him, his entire life really has changed in the blink of an eye. First he was a Kanima that was killing people without him knowing, then he died and came back as a werewolf, then he got shipped off to London and now he's living with his ex nemesis. That's gotta be pretty tough, right?

"I'm sorry, Jackson" Stiles says., "I know this has been hard on you lately, but I promise it will get better. Okay?"

He looks up to meet Stiles eyes, one stray tear sliding down his face and in that moment of weakness, he looks so pure and fragile. Everything is out in the open and Stiles can finally see the real him, not his tough guy facade.

"I promise I wont just up and join some witchy cult and leave you behind." Stiles says, smiling.

Jackson chuckles slightly, and looks down at his lap to swipe the traitorous tear away from his face.

"Hey, whats cheers you up? Anything you want Jax, we'll do it." Stiles asks, wrapping his arm around the taller boys shoulders as best he can. 

Stiles see him smirk a little, going back to his 'jackass' persona, and his sharp glowing blue eyes look up to meet mine again.

"How about a game?" He says, smiling widely with his fangs bared.

***

Its not everyday you have to tell a relative that a slightly temperamental werewolf destroyed your kitchen, its also not everyday that a freaking werewolf destroys your kitchen.

Let's just say Stiles is having a mildly strange day.

Jackson managed to dig out a very old and battered copy of Monopoly from the living room cupboard and decided to set it up on the kitchen island. (Not important but: he was the dog and Stiles was the cat, irony at its finest)

They spent an hour or so playing which ended swiftly after Stiles had to dodge his character piece being thrown at his face. In the newly turned werewolf's defence, Jackson sometimes forgets he has super strength. Instead of breaking Stiles' jaw, he broke one of the tiles behind the cooker.

Stiles threw a sharp glare his way which had him dropping down to pick up the mess he'd made by flipping the game board.

"Oh god, I am so sorry Stiles." He mutters, sweeping up the littered monopoly cash into his muscly werewolf arms and depositing it back onto the counter.

"Not being dramatic or anything but you could have killed me." Stiles says, keeping my 'disappointed' face on - though he was slightly amused by the outburst.

"I forgot how strong I was, I'm sorry." Jax apologises again, looking at Stiles with his puppy dog eyes (no pun intended).

Stiles soften his glare and smiles at him a little, also bending down to help clean.

"Its cool man, just watch the strength yeah?" He laughs, picking up the shattered pieces of the kitchen tile. "This could have been my head."

Jackson laughs. Like, really laughs. For quite some time. When he's done, he looks at Stiles with tears in his eyes.

"Not my fault you're so breakable, Princess Stilinski." He grins.

"Shut your mouth, Whitt-whore." Stiles growl, stalking out of the kitchen and slapping him on the head is for good measure.


	5. Waiting, Waiting, Waiting...

The bag was torn away from Stiles' head, allowing blinding white light to pour into and burn his eyes. Once the dark spots clear, he can see Jackson in the same position as him across the room, wrists and ankles tied to a metal chair.

There's dried blood matted into the fabric of Stiles jeans which had once poured from the knife wound underneath, Jackson had a similar shaped blood patch on his shoulder. Every muscle in his body was aching and he could tell just by shifting that he had multiple bruises and possible broken ribs.

_See Jackson? This is what happens when you let yourself get kidnapped which, by the way, is a little bit your fault. I told you I was right, stupid stubborn werewolf._

**12 hours earlier**

"Jackson Whittmore. This is the last time I'm going to tell you, if you finish a jug of milk DO NOT PUT IT BACK IN THE FRIDGE." Stiles yelled, chucking another empty milk carton across the kitchen in the general direction of the recycling bin.

Jackson and Stiles had been living together in a relatively peaceful agreement of non-violence for almost a month now. They'd both become Robert's surrogate sons and the two teen boys had become incredibly close themselves.

Unfortunately, they still have legendary arguments to rival that of Lydia and ... well Lydia and anyone really. She wasn't picky who she started a fight with.

"And this is the last time I'm going to tell you, Stilinski. Yell at me, suffer the consequences. Its that simple." Jackson yelled back, growling for good measure.

"Don't you growl at me, wolf boy. Just cause you grow sideburns and and a some shitty facial hair when you're mad doesn't mean I won't lace your food with wolfsbane." Stiles retorted, stomping out of the kitchen and to the living room where Jackson was currently lazing.

The king himself was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table with breakfast crumbs lingering around him like a horde of flies.

"Jackson..." Stiles says slowly, breathing deeply to stop from yelling.

"Stiles..." he mocks, not even taking his eyes of the TV.

One thing that hasn't changed between Stiles and Jackson is how much the blonde boy frustrates him. Its like his every action is made to anger Stiles further. He gets on each and every one of his nerves, _individually_ , until he get to his breaking point, and snaps.

"JACKSON WHITTMORE! GET OFF YOUR LAZY WEREWOLF ASS, CLEAN THIS COUCH, AND PUT THAT FUCKING MILK JUG IN THE TRASH RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL RELEASE MY MAGIC AND YOU WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT YOU."

Stiles had never seen that boy run so fast in his life.

Over the past month, Stiles had been slowly developing his magic to the point where he now knew a few incantations. Surprisingly, 'The Vampire Diaries' got their witches right in that their spells were real. They just called them witches instead of mages.

He can set stuff on fire, control wind, move stuff, heal minor injuries, and cloak himself so he's invisible. (He gave Jackson a right good scare with that last one.) Unfortunately, magic is unpredictable so sometimes it can lash out and break a few things.

Stiles had his magic lash out during a nightmare once and he ended up having to reset Jackson's jaw at 2am. The blonde teen was surprisingly calm about the whole incident but hey, who was Stiles to question a miracle?

Jackson trails glumly back onto the room, with the handheld hoover in tow.

"Thank you, King Jackson" Stiles mocked.

Jackson didn't even look him in the eye as he started cleaning up the mess he had left behind.

"Once you've finished that, get dressed. We're going out to enrol in the local high schoo- _don't growl at me Jackson_!"

And there we have one of their most popular topics of argument. Since Stiles had decided he wanted to stay in New York indefinitely, his dad and Rob both suggested enrolling in school.

When he brought it up with Jackson, the other boy had shut it down immediately. His words were, and Stiles quotes - "I will fight you to my dying breath on this Stilinski, I'm not fucking going to school."

Rob managed to convince (technically blackmail) Jackson into going by telling him if he didn't, he'd have to move out. A bit cruel, but effective.

"Stiles, I don't want to enrol into school. I hate school. I managed to convince my parents to let me do an online course, so why should I listen to you?" Jackson moaned, almost sounding like a teenage girl.

"How about because I gave you a place to live instead of telling you to jump up your own ass and die?" Stile shot back, smirking.

And here we have a rare sight, Jackson Whittmore: speechless. He has been getting used to Stiles unbeatable level of sarcasm but Stiles thinks he still isn't used to someone talking back to him.

"Fine, _fine_." Jackson growled. "But only cause I don't want to live on the streets."

Stiles smirked and went to head up stairs to get ready for their trip to school.

"And that last comment was uncalled for, Stiles." Jackson yelled after him.

Stiles stifled a grin. _True_.

***

The pair had just finished enrolling at a prestigious high school, called Midtown School of Science and Technology, under the names Stiles and Jackson Carson. They decided to use Rob's last name instead of their own to stop any hunters or supernaturals recognising their names.

It was easy for Stiles to get in, with his stellar grades, and Jackson had promised that his latest grades were not an accurate reflection of his academic abilities. With a little convincing, they were both on the roster.

They were walking home, much to Jackson's dismay, when Stiles got a startlingly familiar feeling tugging at his stomach. Someone was following the,.

"Jackson," Stiles whispered, continuing to walk like nothing was wrong. "I think someone's following us, do you feel eyes on you?"

Stiles sees the taller boys eyes flash electric blue from his peripheral vision and watches him sniff the air a little.

Over the last month, they had been working on Jackson's werewolf senses. He's been getting better at smell, sight, and hearing but he still isn't great at controlling his shift. Because of that he doesn't use his senses much unless it's absolutely necessary - just in case.

"Nobody's around." He says back lowly. "Can't hear anyone either."

"Huh. Guess I'm just being paranoid, sorry." Stiles says, shaking away the tingly feeling still going down his spine.

"No problem, I know the feeling of paranoia." Jackson replies, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

Stiles feels that sharp electric shock again when Jackson touches him and can tell by his flinch that Jackson does to. Neither of them say anything and just continue walking but as they reach a small corner shop, Stiles decides he needs some space.

"Hey, we're only a block from home. You go, I just wanna grab a few things." Stiles tells Jackson, ducking into the shop without waiting for a reply.

He wanders the few isles, grabbing some ingredients to make dinner and a couple of snacks. He takes his time piling food into the basket and thinks about everything that's happened recently.

His initial feeling upon greeting Rob on the first day has been sticking true, he still thought the older man might be hiding something from them.

His work hours are crazy and he can't seen to find a distinct pattern within them except from one night. Every Tuesday. He comes home at around twelve lunch, changes into workout gear and heads back out.

He comes home around three looking beat and covered in bruises. Stiles never asked why, cause he doesn't want to get in about Rob's business, but he's growing concerned at this point.

Now Jackson, the have grown closer and he can almost feel a pack bond like he does with Scott. Jackson told him that he felt it too and was a little teary eyed over it.

Stiles had begun to consider Jackson a close friend, simply because he's been there for him when he needed someone the most. Every nightmare about Void, Allison or Aiden, Jackson was there to comfort him. Even though he'd deny it, he did let Stiles cry on his shoulder a few times.

It just still feels a little crazy, how quickly their lives had bee changing.

Stiles payed for his stuff and left the shop. As he turns the corner onto Rob's street, he feels something stab into my neck. He drops the shopping bag in shock and turn around to see his attacker.

Instead of seeing a person, his eyesight blurs and he collapse to the ground. God, he fucking hates needles, _especially_ ones filled with sedatives.

***

It's had been almost two hours and Stiles still hadn't come home. Jackson could tell he needed to be alone earlier so he let him go with no arguments, but now he was regretting that.

What if he was right, what if someone was following them?

And now Jackson felt like a shitty person. If he had brushed aside Stiles' gut feeling and someone had actually had been tailing them, they might have Stiles now and that would be his fault

He pulls out his phone and calls number one on his speed dial.  
 _ **Calling Batman...**_  
Jackson was still kind of pissed that Stiles had named himself that, but he's grown fond of it - and him.

The line rings out.   
Stiles never dodges Jackson's calls, no matter what, which means either his phones off (unlikely) or he can't answer. With that in mind, Stiles sends a text to Rob to let him know a vague version of the situation, and goes out looking for Stiles.

He make it to the end of the street and finds some shopping bags and Stiles wallet. There's also a small amount of blood on the ground, which tells him that someone took him.

Jackson growls at myself, this was his fault. Stiles was bleeding and has been kidnapped because of him.

He pulls his phone out again and presses speed dial number two.  
 _ **Calling Hale...**_  
He answers on the first ring.

"Jackson? Everything okay?" Derek asks, his gruff voice concerned.

Jackson never thought he'd say it, but god was he happy to hear Derek's voice. He had been checking in now and again to make sure Jackson was doing okay with being a werewolf, but the blonde hadn't told him he was living with Stiles or that he was even in America.

"No, I need your help. How do I track someone's scent?" Jackson ask, looking around for any more signs of where Stiles had gone.

"Why? Who are you tracking?" Derek replies, sounding confused. Jackson can hear Scott's voice in the background, asking what was going on, and then Derek waving him away.

Jackson rolls his eyes, of course he's being nosy. Now is not the time, but he really wanna punch him - at least smack him a little.

"A friend of mine, well more like a brother. He's been kidnapped. I found blood and I have his wallet but I don't know how to track smells. Sti- he's been trying to teach me but I haven't got the hang of it yet." Jackson say this all very quickly and continue his search of things nearby, hoping Derek doesn't notice his little slip up.

He almost said Stiles name, that wouldn't have ended well. The whole Hale-McCall pack would be up here scouring every inch of New York. That would be one way to piss off the local packs.

"Oh, umm, tracking isn't something that can be taught over the phone. Do you have a pack?" Derek tells him, sounding a little worried himself now.

"No, Derek. Its just me and him, and he's _missing_. Please...please help me."

Even Jackson was surprised at how desperate he sounded, when did he become dependant on Stiles?

"I'll try but you might want to call the police as well, I'm not sure how much use I'll be." The older man said, sounding like he was rubbing his face in frustration.

Jackson doesn't think he can possibly explain how much those words alone comforted him. Stiles has done so much for him over the last month and he doesn't think he could live with himself if he let something happen to him.

"Thank you, Derek." Jackson sighs.

"First off, smell the air around you and try to catch his scent. Anything of his. Soap, shampoo, something like that."

To anyone looking out their windows at this moment in time, the sight would be strange to say the least. A teenager standing in the middle of the sidewalk on the phone, eyes closed and smelling the air around him.

But now isn't the time to worry about appearances.

"I can smell his shampoo, that god awful apple stuff that I hate." Jackson laughed, smelling it as if he was right next to him.

Jackson told him the first time he showered there that he had to get rid of that stuff, and Stiles point blank refused. Usually if Jackson growled and bared his teeth Stiles would fold but on this, he wasn't changing his mind.

"Latch onto he scent, pull it deep from within your gut. Imagine it as a thread, leading him to you." Derek continued.

And Jackson did exactly as he was told. For once, he believed that Derek could help him instead of screwing him over.

"I've got it." Jackson smiled, proud of myself.

"You'll find him faster if you can get chemo signals so try to connect with his emotions." Derek told me.

Jackson squeezed his eyes tighter and took another feel breath in, pulling on the imaginary thread that connected to Stiles.

"He was scared, angry, in pain." Jackson said, almost visualising what happened.

"Follow them, let them take you to him."

And just like that, he could find him by scent. Suddenly he realised it wasn't as hard as he thought, the motivation of finding Stiles gave him the push he needed.

He started walking, barely looking where he was going. He was focused on one thing and one thing only, Stiles.

When the smell of his pain became overwhelming, Jackson opened his eyes fully and saw an old run down building. The windows were boarded up and the door had a metal chain locked across it.

"I think I've got him, I'm outside a warehouse." Jackson whispered, hoping that whoever was holding Stiles wasn't supernatural.

"Call me of there's any issues, I'll come help if necessary." Derek replied.

Jackson started heading towards the building, muttering a quick thank you to Derek before yelling out for Stiles. Screw betting quiet, they had to get out of here.

But he hadn't hung up the phone quite soon enough.   
Derek heard him saying Stiles' name.

***

Stiles heard him, he could hear Jackson yelling for him. If he could, then he was sure his kidnapper could too.

"Jackson!" Stiles screamed, hoping that by some miracle the blonde could reach him quickly and they could escape.

The door to his holding room flew open and a worried looking Jackson appeared in front of him, eyes meeting with his.

"Stiles!" Jackson yelled, rushing towards him.

Out of nowhere, a man clad in all black crept up behind Jackson and stuck him with a needle that stiles could see was filled with a pale yellow wolfsbane.

"No!" Stiles cried, watching as his blonde haired friend collapsed to the ground.

The man leaned over Jackson's unconscious body and sneered.  
" _Bad dog_."


	6. Cape-Man and his Non-Optional After School Activity

The wolfsbane Jackson was injected with wore off about then minutes ago and when he woke up, a man with long dark hair was sitting in a chair near a conscious Stiles, who was sporting a few bruises himself and what looked like a cracked rib.

Jackson didn't know why, but there was this burning feeling in his chest telling him that he needed to do something. All he knew was that he had to protect Stiles, nothings was as important as that. And he can tell that this guy is not someone who wants to sit in a field and make daisy chains.

"Calm yourself, wolf boy. I don't really want you, you just got in the way." The man says, waving his hand at Jackson so the ropes around him tightened. Magic.

Another guy clad in black comes up to him with duct tape and pulls a piece off, smirking as the blonde start to squirm.

"Stiles. Whatever he wants, don't give it to h-" is all Jackson can get out before the tape is over his mouth.

Stiles turns to face him, a strained look on his face as the ropes around him dig into his rib.

"Jackson, listen to me. I'm gonna get us out of here, okay? I need you to stay calm and focus on not shifting." He says, ignoring the man currently raking his eyes across him in a manner that does nothing to calm Jackson.

He growls louder, and feels his eyes change.

"Now, Stiles. Let's you and I have a little chat." The man says.

Stiles turns to face the man, seemingly not fazed by the kidnapping part of this adventure.

"Usually I like to know who it is that's holding me captive. Can I get a clue?" Stiles says, a dopey smile on his face.

Jackson can't help but snicker a little into his duct tape, allowing his eyes to shift back to normal. Stiles glances at him briefly and relaxes when he no longer sees the glowing blue.

"Ah, funny man. Hiding behind humour, what an underrated defence mechanism. But I'm not here for laughs and growling balls of anger like that one." Cape-man says, closely inspecting Stiles eyes.

That seems to be all he's looked at since he walked in here, Stiles eyes. The bubbling rage in Jackson's stomach burns even stronger when he reaches up and pulls Stiles face so that they're eye to eye.

"And that purpose would be..." Stiles trails off, his eyebrows furrowed at the man.

"I need you to build something for me." Cape-man says, pulling a blueprint from seemingly thin air and unfolding it for Stiles to see.

Jackson's rage settles back down, with a laugh building in his throat. Building? Stiles? Stiles couldn't unpack his own suitcase when they moved in, Jackson had to do it. Stiles glances to him, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Build something? If that's all, I don't think the sedative was necessary. I'm a teenager, I could barely even build my desk chair when I got here." Stiles snorts, clearly finding this whole situation ridiculous.

Cape-mans eyes flash a solid green, and Jackson can almost taste the magic in the air. Just like when Stiles uses his magic.

"This isn't some useless piece of furniture, you insolent little child. This is a portal, to the other side of the galaxy." Cape-man says, grabbing Stiles by the collar and pulling him up.

Stiles groans, the rope pushing into his bruises and broken rib. Jackson's eyes change again and he rips his arms out of his bindings, moving to stand up. He's pushed down by a tingly wave of magic and he find himself paralysed - it feels almost exactly like the Kanima venom, and Jackson hates it.

Cape-man is smirking at him with his hand raised.

" _Excuse me_?" Stiles says, his voice thick with pain.

"You're going to help me invade earth." Cape-man tells him.

"And why, pray tell, am I going to do that?" Stiles asks, wincing as the man slowly lowers him back to his seat and vanishes the rope.

"Because if you don't, I'm going to kill your wolf. And the others that you are hiding in Beacon Hills. And the banshee, and the huntress, and your father." The man had listed the whole pack in Beacon Hills, and Stiles father. So he obviously knew who they were - definitely more than a little concerning.

Stiles' joking face disappears immediately, and Jackson knows where he's seen that rage before.

The hospital, after Lydia had been scratched and right before they took down the alpha. Stiles can make any situation funny but when it comes to his friends, his family, you don't want to mess with him.

"How the hell do you know about them?" He growls, his magic flaring up.

"You aren't some child I've picked up on a whim. I've had people tailing you for years, waiting until I was ready to snatch you up." The man says, pulling out a manila file.

He opens it and shows the two teens pictures of Stiles from the age of about three to yesterday. Jackson is in some of them, as himself and as the Kanima.

"Why me?" Stiles asks, wincing at the photos of the Nogitsune and Allison bleeding out on the ground.

"Ignoring the fact that you hide your unnatural intelligence almost as much as one Lydia Martin, you have a spark. Well, you're a mage technically." The man says, showing us a picture of the two boys leaving Sam's shop.

"Why not some other mage? I'm guessing you need magic but surely I'm not the only one." Stiles asks, confusion across his face.

If Jackson could move, his expression would echo it. Of all the magical people in this world (of which he's guessing there are a lot), why does this crazy man need Stiles?

"No, you're not the only one. But, you are the only one that's been tainted by the darkness I need." The man tell them.

Jackson's mind drifts to the countless nightmares Stiles had been having since they started living together.

"The Nogitsune." Stiles whispers.

"It was destined, I saw it happen years ago and I knew I needed you for this to work. I can see it in your eyes." The man says.

That's how he knows Stiles is the one he needs, and it explains why he's been staring at him the whole time. His eyes. A magical being would be able to look into them and sense that Stiles has been affected by the Nogitsune. Although, a non-magical being could tell as well. He was different.

"What if I were to say no? Would you kill me?" Stiles asks, squaring his shoulders.

"Oh no, that would be too easy. I'd kill every single person you ever loved right in front of you, make it look like you did it, and leave you to rot in a prison for the rest of your life with the knowledge that you are the reason they're dead."

The mans spell is starting to loosen around Jackson, and he can manage to let out a growl. How dare he threaten Stiles or the pack. He may have magic but Jackson has claws and sharp teeth.

"Well then, I guess it's a no brainer." Stiles says, turning to look at Jackson as he struggle to shake off the remnant of the spell holding him down.

"I'm glad I didn't have to use too much violence to get you on board. I'll have a driver pick you up at nine o'clock sharp. Take wolf boy as a sign of good faith that you won't run." Cape-man says to Stiles, waving his hand at Jacksin and releasing the spell.

Jackson jumps up from his chair, pulling the duct tape off his mouth and runs over to Stiles. He pulls him into a tight hug. Stiles smells deeply of pain and Jackson knows the he has to get him some help, quickly.

"Much obliged." Stiles murmurs into Jackson's shoulder.

"Don't let me down Stiles, or there will be consequences."

Stiles pulls away from the hug, not letting go of the blondes hand, and turns to face the black haired devil.

"Who are you?" Stiles asks.

The man waves his hand over himself and a helmet with horns materialises on his head.  
"Loki, god of mischief. The pleasure is all mine, Mieczyslaw." Loki says, holding out his hand.

Stiles makes a face of disgust at it and Jackson has to stifle a laugh.

"I'd shake your hand but I'm a bit of a germaphobe and judging by your hair, it's been a while since you showered." Stiles tells him, completely straight faced.

Loki's hand drops, as does the small smile that had been there moments ago.

"I'll ignore that for the sake of not wanting to kill you before the portal is finished." Loki says, waving for the guards to take us out.

That got Jackson's attention.

"Wait, before? Before?" He shouts back at him as they're pulled out of the room. Loki simply smiles.

"Off you go, I look forward to seeing you. Bring the wolf if you must, but if he bites he will be put down, as will the others." Loki nods at Stiles, waving his hand to close the door.

"Jackson, lets go." Stiles says, taking his hand and following the guards to the buildings exit.

Once out, they break into a dead sprint. Neither of them quite trusting that they were being released that easily. They don't stop until they reach the corner shop that Stiles was in earlier that day. Had that all happened today? It felt like longer.

"Stiles, are you okay?" Jackson asks, placing his hand on Stiles' arm to take some pain. He almost sags in relief.

"I'm fine. Building an alien invasion device? Pfft, this is my typical Sunday evening." He says, leaning against Jackson for support.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Jackson says, pulling Stiles with him as he starts walking home.

"What we're told." Stiles replies with a shrug.

"But w-" Jackson start, but Stiles cuts me off.

"End of story, Jackson. Either we do this or people die, and I can't let anyone else die because of me." He says, looking at the ground.

Now that is something that Jackson understands. So he simply nods his head and keep walking.

"Okay, but I'm helping. Give me orders, have me pass you tools or whatever. But I'm not leaving you alone with him." Jackson tells him, not leaving much room for arguments.

They make it home and after a rough five minutes of trying to walk up stairs, Jackson ends up picking Stiles up and carrying him to their room. After placing him gently on the bed and taking some more of his pain, Stiles turns to him with a frown.

"Wait. How did you even find me?" He asks.

"I tracked your scent and chemosignals to the warehouse." Jackson says, a small blush creeping up his neck.

"But we hadn't got to chemosignals yet." Stiles says, confused. Jackson laughs a little, then pulls out his phone.

"I called Derek. I didn't tell him it was for you specifically, just that I needed to find someone. He helped me find you." Jackson tells him, smiling as Stiles eyes widen.

"Wow. Jackson, that's amazing! It took Scott forever to learn chemosignals, Derek had to pretty much beat it into him." Stiles laughs, wincing as he hurts his rib.

"I had some pretty good motivation." Jackson nods, pausing to think about his next words. "Are we going to just pretend that this is normal?"

"Yes." Stiles says with a sigh. "We are going to build his stupid portal and then most likely, run for our lives.

"Then you better get into a gym, Stilinski." Jackson pokes his stomach, laughing as Stiles slaps him lightly across the ear.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds until Jackson feels a bubbling in his stomach. Not the anger type, the hunger type.

"So can we have meatballs for dinner? I'm starving." Jackson asks, pouting his lips like a child.

Stiles pulls himself up to a sitting position and ruffles Jackson's hair.

"I thought you'd never ask."


	7. Bob The Builder: Stiles Edition

Sleep was difficult to come by after their disturbing meeting with Loki, the evil Asgardian God, so Jackson and Stiles spent most of the night talking about what the hell they were going to do.

At this point in time, they were backed into a corner. Loki knew about the pack in Beacon Hills that they had spent the last year trying to keep safe from supernatural threats. He had the power and ability to hurt them if they didn't cooperate.

It was basically kill or be killed, but they couldn't kill because they were supposed to have morals - you know, cause they were the good guys or something dumb like that.

What a fucking mess.

***

Derek Hale was not considered a stable person. Of course he wasn't, if you went through anything like what he did then you would understand. He was alone and his family was dead, that took a toll on your mental health.

Derek had spent recent weeks rebuilding his crazy pack of teenagers in the wake of the nogitsune's destruction. He accepted Ethan and Aidan, as well as Allison, into his pack and found himself training the odd bunch to work together. It was proving to be more difficult than first expected.

Scott being on high alert all the time was slowly driving everyone up the wall, and Stiles was still suspiciously absent from pack meetings. Only Scott knew why he wasn't there, but refused to say why. Derek finally grew tired of Scott's evasiveness and spoke to Sherriff Stilinski himself.

But that just left Derek more confused. Stiles had apparently skipped town over a month ago - which in itself was disturbing as Derek was under the impression that Stiles had made it his personal mission to keep everyone in this town alive at all costs.

And Scott has been keeping it from him. Granted Derek wasn't his Alpha, but the two of them had promised to work together and be transparent about everything. This wasn't very transparent, it was rather opaque actually.

Then just yesterday he got an alarming phone call from one of the newest teenage werewolves, saying he was searching for a missing friend. Said wolf then happened to yell Stiles' name when ending the call.

It was suspicious, and extremely concerning. Why would Jackson Whittmore be within even a 100 mile radius of Stiles - never mind in the country - or be in any way concerned for his safety? Could it be a prank? Or was this really happening? Well, there was only one way to find out.

He had to go to New York. Stiles was pack, even if he had left them behind, and he was in danger.

***

The next week passed quietly for Stiles and Jackson, their lives falling into a strange routine. At 9 o'clock sharp every morning, Loki sent a car to pick them up and bring them to his underground base. It seemed that the god didn't care much about their attendance - what a way to make a first impression on their teachers.

They were introduced to Clint Barton, a brainwashed agent of SHIELD, and Dr Erik Selvig. Stiles had a fanboy moment when meeting Selvig, who insisted he called him Erik. He had read everything the man had ever published, he was a genius.

Stiles was tasked as Selvig's assistant on the portal, Loki having him use his magic when piecing it together. The god-man explained that using a mage's magic as a binding agent on the portal would ensure its strength and stability. Stiles complied, though he didn't appreciate the thought that the portal couldn't be destroyed because of him.

Jackson was sent out with Barton to collect things, using his werewolf strength to get through the tasks as quickly as possible. He didn't want to be away from Stiles for too long. Before. That word was still ringing in his head. Loki wouldn't kill them before the portal was ready.

Barton and Jackson returned from another material run with the other brainwashed poeple, entering the lab where Stiles and Selvig were hard at work. Erik lifted his head as they entered.

"Put them over there." He told them, pointing to the desk at the other side of the table. "Where did you find all these people?" He gestured from Barton to the others carrying the boxes.

"SHIELD has no shortage of enemies Doctor." Barton replies, lifting a tablet with some information on it. "Is this the stuff you two need?"

Selvig didn't lift his head from his current work, but Stiles did. He nods.

"Yep. Iridium, found in meteorites. Forms these very specific anti-protons, it's hard to get hold of. I tried to order some to my house once, all I got was a visit from the FBI." Stiles shakes his head at his own stupidity, smiling when Jackson barks out a laugh.

"Who are you, really? Loki won't say anything." Barton asks him.

"Just a kidnapped nerd." Stiles says with a shrug, returning to his work.

"He's a genius." Erik but in. "Never seen a mind like that on a kid that young. I dare say he's as brilliant as Tony Stark. He's the brains, blondie over there is the brawn."

Barton nodded, returning to the tablet.

"It'll be even harder to get this stuff if SHIELD knows you need it." He tells them.

"Well, _I_ didn't know." Erik replied, dropping his work when Loki enters. "Hey! The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge, it's ... truth."

"I know." Loki grins. "What did it show you, Agent Barton?"

"My next target." Barton says.

Stiles lifts his head to look at the exchange and decides he doesn't like where this is heading.

"Tell me what you need." Loki demands.

"I'll need a distraction." He grabs his bow. "And an eyeball."

The two left the lab, leaving Stiles and Erik to continue with their work. Jackson offered himself as an assistant to them, hoping that this day could be over sooner rather than later.

***

Barton returned not long later, without Loki. He burst into the lab, pointing at the two young boys.

"Brains, brawn. You're with me."  
That was all he said before turning to leave.

"What?" Jackson asked, confused.

"Just get to the jet. We're picking up the boss." Barton demanded, they both moved to follow him.

"SHIELD got him in Germany, then?" Stiles asked, receiving a glare but not flinching.

"Yes, on to the next step of the plan." Barton tells them.

The two boys sit in their seats, strapping themselves in. Stiles got a feeling in his stomach, one that he was quite familiar with. Dread, partnered with the absolute knowledge that his day was about to go from bad to worse.

***

Stiles' fingernails were now nonexistent. He had completely decimated them with his nervous chewing, and he had pissed Jackson off with it too. He didn't like the plan, it just didn't make sense.

Why were they going to blow up one of the engines of the ship they were then going to board?

Stiles could almost hear Scott calling him a hypocrite and referencing all of his horrible plans. But Stiles' gut was never wrong, he had never once been wrong with one of his feelings. And he felt like this was going to go wrong.

But he didn't voice his concerns, he didn't need to. Jackson could tell, the twitchy boy was practically oozing anxiety.

"Brains, take this chip. I'm going to distract them, get the chip to the main desk and shut the place down. Just insert it, the chip will do the rest. Brawn, cover him." Barton directed as they approached the helicarrier.

"We have names, you know." Jackson grumbled.

Barton ignores them. He takes out an explosive arrow and fires it at the ship. It latches onto the engine and starts counting down.

The team preps themselves, Stiles and Jackson simply watch. The chip in Stiles' hand was sweaty already, then Barton detonated the arrow.

The ship in the sky lurched, one of its engines turning off completely. The pilot lands their jet and Barton leads the team off.

"Get that engine down! Detention! Get him through the dark! Brains and brawn, get to the bridge!"

The two boys duck through the nearest door, one of Barton's brainwashed men following them, and manage to find themselves in the bridge. The man pulls out a grenade and slides it into the room.

"Grenade!" A woman shouts. The room ducks for cover.

The men enter the room from all sides and begin firing. Stiles and Jackson hide as much as they can, heading for the centre control panel. A group of men blocks their path, but Stiles simply waves them away. One man points his gun at Stiles but Jackson snatches it from him, snapping his wrist and knocking him out.

Stiles inserts the chip into the desk, quickly ducking and retreating into a far corridor with Jackson following him. It does exactly what Barton said it would do. All the monitors turn off and another engine shuts off. The ship lurches again, tilting dangerously to one side.

"Sir, we've lost power to engine one." The same woman's voice calls.

"It was those kids, they took out our systems." The black man with the eye-patch responds.

Stiles and Jackson don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation, instead turning and running down another corridor. They were almost outside when an agent came running round the corner and slammed into them.

The three went tumbling to the ground, winded. Stiles coughed, holding onto his rib where he had been hit. He looked up and gasped.

"Rob?"

***

To say he was having a rough day at work would be an understatement, Rob was having the worst day of his life. He knew the two teenage boys that lived with him were up to something, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought they were working with Loki.

Now, his two boys were handcuffed and seated in the briefing room. Steve and Tony were there, Natasha was busy treating Barton. The others were scattered, they didn't know where yet.

"These boys," Fury started, anger like none other in his voice. "They're with you, Agent?"

"Stiles is my nephew, he and his friend Jackson have been living with me for over a month now." Rob tells him.

"Explain this to me then." Fury continues. "Your nephew took six of my men out of commission with a wave of his hand, and the blonde one snapped a mans wrist like it was a twig."

"I'd actually like an explanation for that, too." Rob said, turning to face the two boys.

Stiles wore a grimace on his face, but Jackson was calm as ever.

"I'd love to explain, I really would." Stiles told them. "But the more you know, the more danger you're in."

"You just tried to take down this entire ship, _with us on it_." Stark chimed in. "That seems like enough danger to me."

Jackson deeply sighed, closing his eyes. His anger was growing by the second and it was taking a lot of energy not to shift.

"I'm sorry, are we boring you?" Fury snapped, slamming his hand next to Jackson on the table.

Jacksons eyes snapped open and flashed their electric blue. He stood up from his chair, snapping the flimsy handcuffs and letting out a low growl.

"Jax, sit." Stiles said, his voice quiet. Jackson complied, though he did reach over and break Stiles out of his cuffs too before tossing both pairs into the middle of the desk.

"Is Loki still controlling him? Why did his eyes flash?" Steve demands, looking between the two boys.

Stiles sighed, rubbing his wrists. "I'll explain everything. But trust me, it's not a fun story."

And so, Stiles explained about the werewolves in Beacon Hills. He explained about the nogitsune, about his magic, about Jackson. And then he told them about Loki, how he was kidnapped and forced to work for him.

"I was working with Doctor Selvig on the portal. Once Loki opens it, the army will descend." He finished, leaning back in his seat.

Rob had tears in his eyes, listening to everything Stiles had been through. He almost didn't want to believe it, but he knew it was real. He had seen the change in his nephew the minute he saw him, he had a fire in him.

"And there was no way you could have alerted us about this?" Maria Hill asks from beside Fury.

"Loki has people watching the house. We couldn't say anything, or he would start picking our friends off one by one." Stiles told her.

Tony walked behind the two boys.  
"If no one else will say it, I will. You two are brave, not many would do what you did. You risked your own lives to save your friends. We could use brave."

With that, he clapped both boys on the shoulders. Stiles sharply inhaled, groaning as Tony his the shoulder he had fallen onto.

Jackson put his hand on top of Stiles, taking his pain without a second thought.

"Thanks, Jax." Stiles whispered.

"What's that?" Steve asked, pointing to the black veins on Jackson's hands. As if Steve didn't already think the modern world was crazy, now there was _werewolves_?

"He's taking my pain. It's a werewolf thing." Stiles replies, nodding at Jackson to tell him he could let go.

Tony walked around the table and over to Fury.  
"They're strong," he started, only to be cut off by Rob.

"Absolutely not!" He shouted, rounding in Tony and Fury. "You will not pull them into this.!

"They're already in it." Tony snaps back. "Think of it as repentance. You know, for almost killing us all?"

"Wait, you want us to fight?" Jackson asks, leaning across the table. "If we're fighting Loki, I'm in."

"What?" Rob exclaims, looking over at the blonde boy.

"I owe him a few punches." Jackson explained, a sinister grin on his face. "He kidnapped Stiles and broke his rib, so I'm gonna break all of his."

"He threatened my dad, Rob." Stiles said quietly. "Whatever you need me for, I'm in."

Rob sighed, seeing that same fire in Stiles' eyes. He knew he wasn't going to win this one, and he knew Jackson would follow his nephew anywhere.

"Okay."


End file.
